


Christmas Eve

by TheWammysHouseReject



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Angst, Christmas, WAFF, World War I
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-21
Updated: 2012-12-21
Packaged: 2017-11-21 22:57:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/603006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWammysHouseReject/pseuds/TheWammysHouseReject
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One night. One night to be friends, one night to have fun and forget that they're at war.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Christmas Eve

**Author's Note:**

> Just an idea that popped into my head during History class. I hope you enjoy :)  
> I don't own Hetalia or any of the characters. I don't make any money. Thanks :)

The trenches are damp, and cold, smelling of filth and blood and festering wounds. It was a dark, unpleasant place to be any day, but it somehow seemed even more unpleasant on Christmas Eve.

Germany leaned back against the muddy wall of the trench, pouring a few precious mouthfuls of water down his throat.

They weren’t going to be home for Christmas. They’d spend it stuck out here, in the cold and the dirt, in the trenches crawling with rats and disease, with only the pictures of their loved ones for company.

Germany looks around at the dozens of war-weary faces, half-awake and drained of life. He heaves a sigh and pulls out a framed photograph from his jacket and brushes away the dirt from the cracked glass.

He and his older brother are standing together, posing in their crisp, brand new military uniforms.Prussia had his arm wrapped around Germany’s broad shoulders, grinning in his usual Prussian manner. He’d scrawled the words See you soon on the top of the photograph in half-dried pen before shoving it into Germany’s hands and telling him to keep it close. Then one officer called Gilbert Beilschmidt over to one division, and Ludwig Beilschmidt to another. Prussia left in a hurry, with a quick hug and a promise.

“See ya soon.”

Germany is jerked out of his thoughts by the sound of Christmas Carols, sung in a rich, tenor voice.

Stille Nacht, heilige Nacht,   
Alles schläft; einsam wacht

Germany closed his eyes and let the music wash over him.

Nur das traute hoch heilige Paar.   
Holder Knabe im lockigen Haar,   
Schlaf in himmlischer Ruh!   
Schlaf in himmlischer Ruh! 

The music is soothing on the soldiers’ frayed nerves, a welcome relief from the constant refrain of gunfire.

The sweet voice continues, bringing a warm, happy feeling to the gloomy trench. Soon, everyone, even Germany, is singing along. They hear voices from across the void of No Man’s Land.

Douce nuit, sainte nuit,  
Jetez-vous à genoux.  
Bergers, c'est le Méssie,  
Jésus, né de Marie,  
Dieu, fait homme pour nous  
Dieu, fait homme pour nous.

Slowly, something changes. A few terrified men come out of the trenches, still singing bravely, leaving their guns behind as the ultimate gesture of faith.

France is there, oddly enough, dirty, but unhurt. He embraces Germany with open arms, with a “Joyeux Noel” and a warm smile.

A ceasefire was called, for Christmas. Alcohol and food were shared, pictures of wives and lovers were taken out. A football made an appearance, teams were called- Germans and Frenchmen together.  
Germany kept to the sidelines, watching the fun, smiling, but not really caring to join.

“What’s wrong, kleiner bruder? Afraid to lose in football game?”

He looked up, then jumped to his feet to pull Prussia into his arms. Prussia yelped in pain.

“What-”

Prussia pointed toward the bloody sling over his right arm.

“Barbed wire. Almost had to cut my arm off when it got infected.”  
He said it with his typical broad grin, as if oblivious to how horrible the injury was. But Germany didn’t say much, knowing that Prussia didn’t appreciate being fussed over. He just cringed at the injury and let it rest.  
“How’d you get here?” he asked.

“I talked my general into transferring me over here. So yer stuck with me now.”

Germany smiled. Prussia grinned right back.

“Come on, bruder. Let’s go kick their asses.”

“But, your arm-”

“You don’t need an arm to play football, especially when you’re as awesome as I am.”

Prussia ran off toward the football game, and Germany raced to keep up.

The sun was creeping up over the horizon, dying the sky bloody red, as the night began to die.

Soon, France would be the enemy again. Christmas would be over, and they would fight again. 

But they pushed that thought to the back of their minds, and laughed and played like it was the last day of their lives.

Because they knew that it just might be.

Wir wünschen Ihnen ein frohes Weihnachtsfest und ein glückliches neues Jahr.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Holidays to all :D


End file.
